4th of July: Celebrate Being British Day
by Sile.Authoress
Summary: It's July 4th so Arthur decides to crank up some tunes and celebrate what it is to be British. Anything to keep his mind of what today really means, the day America declared independence./England and America, includes playlist inside! Happy 4th of July!


I, in no way claim any rights to or profits from Axis Powers Hetalia, those belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and the companies that print and distribute APH, and justly so. This story was written in a fit of inspiration, back-handed patriotism, and love of history and British music.

Quick Note: Seamus is my OC for Scotland, Morgan is my OC of Wales, Ultan is my OC for Northern Ireland (he is the son of Ireland and England), and Eireen is my OC for Ireland.

Also, all the songs mentioned in this story are listed at the end of the story, arranged by appearance. I would recommend listening to them as you read the story.

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><p>His thumb hesitated over the wheel of his iPod. He was about to go up to "Music" and pick a specific artist, but changed his mind and pressed "Shuffle". He put the ear buds in his ears and grinned, "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" was beginning and he whistled along as he picked up his laundry basket and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He opened the closet door and began to put his shirts away. He must have gotten this from Ultan, it was an Irish song, but he could overlook that because it was such a great marching song. The song ended as he was hanging his trousers and switched to "Penny Lane". Arthur's grin widened, the Beatles were just that bloody brilliant. He also liked the song because the characters in it had personality, he could imagine meeting them on just about any London street. They had their quirks, but that's what made them British.<p>

The song was nearly over when he ran out of hangers. He reached up to the top shelf of his closet and began to feel around for the spare hangers. As he found some underneath a pile of other clothes "Penny Lane" ended and "Anarchy in the UK" began. He pulled the hangers out from under the other clothes but knocked them to the floor in the process.

"Bollocks", he swore looking down at the mess. Then he grinned, a slow mischievous grin, and pressed the pause button on his iPod. He dropped the spare hangers in the clothes hamper and reached down to pick up his favorite punk clothes.

Punk, his not-so-secret secret guilty pleasure. The tee shirt was his favorite Sex Pistols shirt with rivets, chains and buttons all over. The pants were the best though, black skinny jeans with rips, pins, and rivets all down one leg and a huge Union Jack patch on the other: bloody fucking awesome. He glanced down at his iPod. 'Anarchy' and his favorite Punk outfit, a coincidence? He didn't think so; chores could wait for a quick Punk Rock break. He stripped quickly and then pulled on the Punk clothes with great care. Then he crouched down and dug around in the bottom of his closet until he found his box of piercings and a pair of worn, black leather boots. He opened the box and pulled out some necklaces and earrings. He'd let most of his ear holes close up since the late 1980s but he had a few clip-ons. All dressed up he stood and ran a hand through his hair to muss it.

It was silly, the sensible part of him said, to go to such extremes for one Punk song. But, the rest of him reasoned, with Punk there was no doing anything halfway. He put his ear buds back into his ears and started the song again from the beginning. Laundry forgotten, he jumped onto his bed and began to play the air guitar as he sang along. He wasn't worried about anyone walking in on him, unless it was an emergency; Seamus had gone north to go fishing, Morgan was in Wales for a music festival, and Ultan was visiting his mother. Matthew and Alfred had been too busy celebrating and preparing for their birthdays. He had the house to himself, which was probably a good thing considering that today was the Fourth of July.

When the song was over he jumped off the bed pushing thoughts of his siblings and former colonies out of his mind. Today might be America's day, but screw him; today he was declaring an unofficial Celebrate Being British holiday. He put the rest of his clean clothes away, pausing occasionally to take some air guitar solo breaks. When he was finished he picked up the clothes he'd been wearing earlier, then chucked them in the hamper. He'd spend the rest of the day in his Punk clothes. He wasn't going anywhere but they needed an outing. He did put on a jumper over the Sex Pistols shirt however, just in case. If he needed to see the Queen, it simply wouldn't do if he was wearing a shirt decorated in anarchy symbols and "God save the Queen she ain't no human being". One of his pixie friends mused about what Queen Victoria would say if she could see him and he snickered a little. He could remember her voice as if it were yesterday. A cool, "We are not amused" from his former queen could have stopped anyone in their tracks. He checked his watch; it was nearly 4:00 so he went downstairs to prepare for tea.

As the water boiled he put scones, cakes, sandwiches, and bread and butter onto a platter. As he arranged the food he imagined what Francis and Alfred would say, the gits. The others may give him crap for his cooking, God knew why, but they weren't here were they? He decided to add extra cakes just to celebrate British tea time.

When the tea was ready he glanced out the window, hoping it would be nice enough to take tea on the terrace. Typically, it was raining in England. Unbidden, Alfred's voice came to his mind, "_Why_ _is it always raining in England_"? Pushing annoying thoughts of Alfred out of his mind he carried the tray to the sitting room. As he prepared to set it down he glanced across the room at the wet bar and shuddered. It seemed to fill the room with a sinister presence, as if to say, "_You may drink tea now but we both know you'll be drinking whiskey before too long_." One of the fairies suggested he take tea in the breakfast room and he decided to take her advice.

He bit into a cake but the pleasure was diminished with his thoughts still on the ominous wet bar. At this time every year, no matter what, he always seemed to find himself in the company of some alcoholic beverage or another. It was infuriating that even over 200 years later Alfred's birthday still affected him like this. Hell, it was degrading. He was the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. He had once been one of the powerful empires in the history of the world, one the sun had never set on. Yet on July fourth all that power and prestige was drowned in whiskey and ale. He sipped his tea stared at the drizzle outside. _Why is it always raining in England?_

To try and dispel the temptations of whiskey he pressed play on his iPod and let his eyes wander around the breakfast room. Queen came on next. As Freddie Mercury began to sing about his best friend Arthur felt his mood improve a little. He finished his tea and roved along one of the book shelves looking for something diverting. Queen switched to "Songbird" by Fleewood Mac.

One book hadn't been put back correctly and he picked it up: a collection of Jonathan Swift. He'd need to speak to Ultan about putting things away properly when he was done with them. As Arthur was walking down the row of shelves to put the book back into its correct place he noticed a piece of cloth sticking out of it. He opened it up and saw it was a scrap of linen that had been embroidered into a bookmark. He glanced at the page and saw it marked "A Modest Proposal". That was odd. What had been so important about that essay that he'd marked it? He scratched his head; he didn't peruse the books in breakfast room very often, he never had time. He glanced at the bookmark and saw it had been embroidered with a shamrock and a Celtic cross. Only Ireland could embroider, apart from him of course, she must have marked this page before she'd left.

"Forever Autumn" by the Moody Blues began and with it memories of Ireland that he hadn't thought about in a long time. He remembered how beautiful her voice was when she sang along to the pianoforte, he remembered how flushed with exercise her face would be when they went horseback riding, he remembered watching her nurse Ultan when he had been a baby, he even remembered her passion and fire when they made love all those years ago. "Forever Autumn" ended and "Greensleeves" began. He smiled; he used to call Eireen his Lady Greensleeves. He had loved her and desired her; too much as it turned out. Any love they had shared had been too fragile to withstand the tests of time and the plays for power.

He set Swift down, not bothering to make sure it was in the right place. He took the tea tray back to the kitchen and did dishes. His iPod continued to torture him by playing songs about lost love until he stabbed the pause button. As he finished putting the tea things away there was a tapping at his window. He turned to see one of his gnome friends grinning toothily and motioning him to come outside. He stepped into the garden and smiled to see the drizzle had lightened, it wasn't _always_ raining in England.

"Is this why you called me out?" he asked. The gnome shook his head and pointed at all the weeds sprouting in his garden.

"Oh Bloody Hell!" he swore and grabbed his gardening gloves, neat gardens are a point of British pride after all. Arthur and the gnomes made short work of the weeds. When he was done the drizzle had all but stopped so he decided take a walk up the street for some fresh air. A bit of fresh air would help him take his mind off his problems. He ducked back inside for his walking cap then turned on his iPod. It began playing "God Save the Queen" and he whistled along to it as he let himself out.

It didn't matter if it was always raining in England. _Besides_, he thought savagely, _isn't it always raining in Washington State in America?_ _Yeah_, he imagined America replying, _but people in Washington don't let a little rain stop them. They're Americans they do what they want._ He scowled as he glanced around the deserted street. This walk wasn't helping anymore. As he began to trudge back to his townhouse the rain began to fall heavily again.

"And Your Bird Can Sing" by the Beatles came on and he sighed, even though it was the Beatles it sounded like something Alfred would say. Celebrate Being British day was turning into a bust. It was still Alfred's birthday and try as he might he couldn't completely keep the nation from his mind. He glanced up at the sky and a drop landed in the corner of his eye and ran down his cheek. The Rolling Stones came on with "As Tears Go By" and he wiped the drop away, wishing it wasn't always raining in England.

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><p>Arthur poured the whiskey into the glass. He'd known it was inevitable, something inside was screaming at him to pull himself together, have a little self respect; but his body moved automatically as if this ritual was hardwired into his programming. He set the bottle down and reached for his glass, preparing for the burn of the whiskey sliding down his throat. The doorbell rang. He froze the glass halfway to his lips. The doorbell rang again. He set down the glass and walked into the hall, staring at the door. The door bell rang a third time. Snapping from his shock he opened the door.<p>

"Good evening sir," said man carrying a box.

"Hello," he replied, "How can I help you?"

"Delivery for Arthur Kirkland."

After he signed for the box he took it into the kitchen. The return address was from a company called Edible Arrangements. Arthur had never ordered anything from them but a quick glance at the recipient's address confirmed it was his. He cut open the box and pulled out a vase filled with fruits cut and arranged like flowers, including many strawberries, and white chocolate stars. He pawed through the box for a bill or paper but found only a brochure for Edible Arrangements. He glanced through the brochure, Edible Arrangements was a company based out of America. He snorted at this, trust the people in Alfred's country to have a company that sold bouquets you could eat.

_Alfred wouldn't send me something on his birthday,_ he thought, _It doesn't make any sense_. Alfred was one of the most self-centered people he knew, and with his birthday coming up he wouldn't spare a thought for anyone but himself_._ He looked over the bouquet until he found a card addressed to him. It read:

**Dear England,**

**When you said you weren't coming I wanted to send you a piece of my birthday cake but didn't think it would last in the mail. So I got you this instead! I know how much you love strawberries so I had them add extras. Cool huh? **

**Anyway, because I wasn't going to see you I just wanted to send you this to say: Thanks for being my role model.**

**-the United States of America**

He stared. He reread the note. What in the bloody hell? He reached for his cell phone and found Alfred's number. His thumb settled over the 'call' button, then stopped. Alfred would probably be in no position to answer his phone. He decided to call Alfred's brother instead. It took him a moment, then he found Matthew's phone number.

"Hello, this is Matthew. 'Allo C'est Mathieu. To continue this conversation in English say 'yes'. Pour continuer cet-"

"Matthew this is Arthur. Stop yammering in French and tell me what the hell Alfred was thinking."

"Arthur", he heard Matthew sigh in annoyance, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why do you assume that I know what in the world Alfred's thinking?"

"This letter, and –" He was cut off when there was a scuffle on the other end and some chattering in French. He could only catch the words "Papa non" before the scuffling stopped.

"Angleterre", purred an accented voice, "What a surprise to hear from you."

"Sod off France, give the phone back to Matthew," he snapped.

"I'm surprised you are still up, it is passed your bedtime, no?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You have usually drunken yourself into unconsciousness by now, no?"

"Fuck off France! What are you doing at Alfred's birthday party anyway?"

"I received an invitation Angleterre, didn't you? Or was the invitation unreadable after you finished crying all over it?"

"Listen you damn frog, if I were on that side of the Atlantic-"

"You'd what? Make a drunken spectacle of yourself as you try to convince Le Amerique to come back to you? Non Mathieu, Lâchez-moi!" There was more scuffling at the other end of the line and some swearing in French then Matthew's breathless voice came over the line.

"Sorry about that, he jumped me. Look Arthur, if you want to know what Alfred was thinking you should just ask him."

"I can't-" he began but was cut off when he heard Matthew yell for Alfred.

"Hey Mattie what's up?" he heard Alfred say faintly.

"Phone call for you." Matthew replied.

"Okay, help Texas watch the grill for me. Hello?" said Alfred. Arthur tried to reply but he couldn't, he was torn between hanging up and giving Alfred a piece of his mind.

"Helloooo? Anyone there?" Alfred called.

"Yes I'm here you bloody git. Stop yelling into the phone!" he snapped.

"Arthur! I'm so glad you called, I wasn't expecting to hear from you until at least tomorrow."

He decided to let that pass. "What's the big idea sending me an edible bouquet?" he asked, his anger spilling over into his questions, "Do you like to annoy me? Is that the only reason you exist? Do you like rubbing salt in my wounds? I told you ages ago that I wouldn't come to your blasted birthday party!" he sighed, his anger disappearing just as quickly as it had come "Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

There was silence at the other end of the line and he wondered if Alfred had hung up. "Geez Arthur, I never meant to make you upset. Sorry about that."

"What were you trying to do?"

There was silence as Alfred seemed to consider what to say. "To cheer you up," he said hesitantly, "I knew you'd probably be having a bad day today so I wanted to do something to make you feel better."

Arthur glanced at the card again. "Did you really mean it?"

"About you being my role model? Yeah, there's a lot that your country did that I admire, like your Bill of Rights, your bi-cameral government, your music. I've, I've just never really told you until now." A little grin crept onto Arthur's face at the embarrassment in the young nation's voice.

"I apologize for losing my temper. Thank you for thinking of me."

"It's cool. I hope you had a good da- Oh Shit! Sorry Artie I gotta go, Texas is having grill trouble and the fireworks weren't supposed to start until this evening. Talktoyatomorrowbye!"

The line went dead. He put his phone away and selected a chocolate covered strawberry, it was quite delicious. He carried the bouquet into the sitting room and stopped when he saw the whiskey on the table. Setting the bouquet down he picked up the bottle and put it back into the wet bar. Then he raised his glass of whiskey and said quietly, "Happy birthday America. May you have many more."

Then he picked up his bouquet again and went to the library. Celebrate Being British day wasn't over yet and he was in the mood for some J. R. R. Tolkien tonight.

He fell asleep in his reading chair listening to "Rule Britannia", _Return of the King_ open on his lap, one empty whiskey glass and a half eaten bouquet at his elbow. The card from Alfred tucked into the only pocket of his favorite punk pants. It was a good day to be British, even if it was almost always raining in England.

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><p><span>A British Playlist<span>:  
>"Long Way to Tipperary" Traditional Irish Song<br>"Penny Lane" by the Beatles  
>"Anarchy in the UK" by the Sex Pistols<br>"You're My Best Friend" by Queen  
>"Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac (okay, this is technically an American band but it's one of Christie McVie's more famous songs, and she was British)<br>"Forever Autumn" by the Moody Blues  
>"Greensleeves" English Folk Song<br>"God Save the Queen" British National Anthem  
>"And Your Bird Can Sing" by the Beatles<br>"As Tears Go By" by the Rolling Stones  
>"Rule Britannia" Traditional English Song<p>

A/N:  
>Ah this story, I'm such a bad American. Happy Birthday America!<br>But anyway, first I must quickly mention that the initial inspiration for this story was a piece of artwork by Kelly-Bean on DeviantArt and a comment someone posted which went along the lines of: The first panel is energetic, second panel is romantic, and third panel is tragic. But in the end, for me, it turned out to be an Independence Day story. I hope you enjoyed it. Please Review!  
>Here is the link to her artwork (just copy, paste, and remove spaces): http: kelly-bean. deviantart. com/ gallery/ 29216229? offset=144#/ d25s6a4

All the artists and songs mentioned in this story are either British or English. The song "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" is an Irish song but was very popular during WWI (Ireland was still part of the UK at the time).

"A Modest Proposal" by Jonathan Swift (the same guy who wrote "Gulliver's Travels") is a satire that criticized the British treatment of the Irish and the Irish for basically lying down and taking it. In a nutshell it suggested that the impoverished Irish sell their children to be eaten as a delicacy by the British aristocracy because there were too many mouths to feed so most Irish children became beggars. Swift was British but lived in Ireland for much of his life.

Yes, USA is not the first country to have a Bill of Rights. The British passed theirs in 1689.  
>A Bi-Cameral legislature is a law-making branch of government that is composed of two houses of representatives that vote on proposed legislation. The British Parliment contains the House of Lords and the House of Commons. The U.S. Congress contains the House of Representatives and the Senate. The only difference is all lawmakers in U.S. Congress are elected and a seat in the British House of Lords is not obtained by democratic election.<br>Both of these aspects of English Government (among others) were strong influences what would eventually become the government of the USA as it was being formed in the late 1700s.

What Alfred is specifically referring to when he mentions "Arthur's Music" is a phenomenon in the 1960s and 1970s called the "British Invasion" when basically all these great British rock bands (Beatles, Rolling Stones, Queen, etc.) migrated across the Atlantic to tour in America.

Translations:  
>French: "Hello this is Matthew."<p>

French: "To continue this –"

French: "England"

French: America

French: Let go of me!


End file.
